


no it's not nirvana but it's on the way

by ghosthunter



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 13:51:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11899095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosthunter/pseuds/ghosthunter
Summary: Sasha does not miss the way Backy looks at him then, sharp and angry, and Sasha knows he deserves it. They sit in awkward silence until the waitress comes to take their drink orders.





	no it's not nirvana but it's on the way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taxingme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxingme/gifts).



> written for taxingme in the all caps exchange, who wanted "breaking up and making up" so congratulations, you got the last five years, hockey-style.
> 
> thanks to liv for beta.

**2012**  
"We can't keep doing this. When we back in States."

Nicke feels his entire body go cold when the words come out of Alex's mouth. First of all, they make no fucking sense. Actually, that's the only of-all, because they're words said in English, and English may not be Nicke's first language but he knows all those words and they _don't make any fucking sense_.

"What," he says. It's not a question. Alex sighs. He's still stretched out on the bed in his apartment - their apartment, the one they've shared since Alex convinced Nicke to come to Moscow and play for Dynamo with him. The bed they've shared, even though there's a extra bedroom, ostensibly Nicke's, even though he hasn't slept there in months. Nicke's standing at the end of the bed, a towel slung around his hips and his hair still dripping.

"Around team too much," Alex tells him. "Someone gonna notice."

"Can I point out," Nicke says, annoyed that Alex has decided to have this conversation right now, right as Nicke has gotten out of the shower, and he's standing there naked and vulnerable, "that anyone here could have noticed. And that would have had much, much worse results."

"Team not around as much," Alex says. "We not friends like team in DC."

It still doesn't make any fucking sense, and Nicke tells Alex as much. Alex just looks at him, like this means nothing, and suddenly Nicke realizes that maybe it was just convenience for Alex, and that Nicke's the one who's made a mistake in allowing himself to what - have feelings?

"I wish," Nicke finally says after a long moment of awkward silence stretching between the two of them, where he stands there watching Alex's chest rise and fall with each breath, "that you had waited until I was dressed to tell me this."

"Was afraid I wouldn't say at all," Alex says. He sits up. "I'm not trying to fight with you, Backy."

"No, you're - dumping me?" This time it's a question. Nicke's not sure they were ever dating. Not in a traditional sense. But they're not friends with benefits, not with the way looking at Alex now, hearing what he's saying, makes Nicke's chest ache.

Alex just shrugs. "Is not like I don't care," he says finally.

"But," Nicke says, raising an eyebrow. Water drips off the tips of his wet hair and rolls down his chest.

"Is what I said," Alex says. "It would be bad if people knew."

Nicke does not yell that it makes no fucking sense. He just takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. On one hand, he does understand. They have a lot of career ahead of them, either in the NHL or the KHL or the SHL or wherever, and he knows it will hurt his career if it gets out that he and Alex have spent the lockout hooking up. He knows this. On the other hand, he has feelings and it twists in his stomach and makes him want to yell at Alex for being stupid and giving this up, whatever this is. They've never talked about their feelings - Nicke hates talking about his feelings. He'd start now if he thought it would make a difference.

"Fine," he says after a long moment. He grips his towel around his waist and walks to the dresser, grabbing an armload of his clothes out of one of the drawers. He doesn't know what kind of point he's making but he's definitely making one, or at least trying. He'll have to come back and move his clothes out of Alex's room completely, but for now, he takes what he can carry and storms out.

Not even slamming the door of the guest room is satisfying.

 

**2017**  
The first time on the ice at training camp is always a cluster fuck, no matter how hard they work in the offseason. Offseason workouts are nothing at all like actually getting on the ice for practice, and Sasha is winded after the first five minutes. He's glad, at least, to see that most of the rest of their team - the veterans, anyway - are also in a similar state, Backy leaned down toward the ice and Osh standing with his hands on his hips, trying to pretend he's absolutely not dying. They are both dying. Sasha is dying.

The team feels different and strange, teammates they've skated with the last couple of years now gone in favor of new faces come up from Hershey and hoping to stay with the big club this year.

He glides over to Backy and Osh, but doesn't say anything. Backy tilts his head up, and manages to give Sasha what Sasha thinks is supposed to be a smile but comes across as something between a grimace and a snarl. Sasha huffs out a breathless laugh.

"We need to skate more in the offseason," Sasha finally says. Backy straightens up, and Osh just shakes his head and skates away from them to join the next drill.

"Come to Sweden and do that, then," Backy says.

"You come to Russia," Sasha shoots back. Backy shakes his head.

"Been there," he says, and this time his attempt at a smile approaches an actual smile.

"Dinner tonight?" Sasha asks.

"Sure," Backy says before he skates away as well.

 

**2012**  
Nicke's riding a buzz, from the win, from the vodka. He sprawls backward onto the bed, his legs dangling to the floor. Alex flops down beside him - half on top of him - his body heavy and hot against Nicke's. He tilts his head and presses his mouth in the general vicinity of Alex's. Alex tilts his face until their lips align, and Nicke reaches out and fists his hand in the fabric of Alex's shirt.

Alex leverages himself up with one arm, shifting more of his weight on top of Nicke, pressing him down into the bed. It's not fully comfortable, with Nicke's legs still hanging off the side of the bed, but it's enough for now, Alex's free hand tangling in Nicke's hair. They stay that way, until Nicke's lips feel raw and Alex is half-hard pressed against his hip.

"We should get into bed," Nicke says. His lower legs are starting to ache from the way they're dangling, anyway.

Alex rolls over onto his back and sits up, tugging his shirt off over his head. Nicke toes his sneakers off, leaving them next to his side of the bed before standing up to take off his pants. Alex clicks on the lamp next to the bed and walks over to turn the overhead lights off, shedding his shoes and socks as he goes. By the time they're both on the bed he's still wearing his underwear, even though Nicke is fully naked.

"Off," Nicke says, slipping his fingers into the waistband, napping the elastic gently. Alex grins at him.

"Pushy," he says, then slides them off his hips and down, throwing them onto the floor.

 

**2017**  
Sasha picks Backy up for dinner and has the fleeting thought that it's almost like a date - only, they never dated, not really, not with dinners and movies and drinks. Not even coffee, not really. They'd just settled into living together in Sasha's Moscow apartment, and eventually Backy had ended up in Sasha's bed.

Back then, Sasha had gotten scared. There had been feelings, and Sasha hadn't wanted to jeopardize his career the way those feelings might have done. Backy had feelings then, too, based on the way he'd reacted to Sasha breaking up with him. Sasha wants to pretend it wasn't a real breakup, because they hadn't really been together.

It hurt like a real breakup, and he'd done it to himself.

Backy is quiet while Sasha drives, texting nearly non-stop while Sasha mutters along to the music spilling out of the car's stereo.

"Who you texting so many times?" Sasha finally asks while they're sitting stopped at a light. Backy looks up at Sasha and holds up his phone, even though Sasha is supposed to be paying attention to the road and also all of the texts are in Swedish. "Is Jojo?"

"He has a lot to say about New Jersey," Backy says. "Actually, half of it is pictures of boxes he hasn't unpacked yet."

"He miss us," Sasha says.

"He just wants someone to complain at," Backy says, but he's smiling. "So what's the occasion? We haven't gone out without at least three kids in about five years."

Sasha turns his head slightly, glancing at Backy, then turning back when the light changes. "Just wanted to," Sasha says. He doesn't say: I wanted to take you out. He doesn't say: because this is a date. He doesn't say: because I've been in love with you since before the first time I helped pull a Washington Capitals jersey over your head and I'm still in love with you even though I got scared and broke up with you in Moscow and now I think you hate me.

He just doesn't say any of those things. "I can't want to spend time with my favorite Backy?" He can almost hear Backy rolling his eyes, and Backy's phone vibrates again, but he doesn't unlock it.

"You're ridiculous," Backy tells him. Sasha grins.

"I mean it," Sasha tells him. "I miss you during offseason."

"Uh huh," Backy says. Sasha turns the car into a garage and finds a space to park. It's still oppressively hot, even in the garage, because the DC weather hasn't started to cool off yet, and it's even hotter in the stairwell they take down to the street. Sasha's shirt is starting to stick to his back by the time they're back outside, but at least the sun is starting to set and it's not as hot as it could be.

They're not exactly incognito, so it's luck nobody stops them on the street as they cross to the restaurant. Sasha comes to the restaurant a lot, and the hostess knows him, smiles when she sees him and escorts them to a table along the wall, near the back, inconspicuous. Sasha appreciates it.

"I don't remember what it's like to have a whole side of the table to myself," Backy says, and sits down in the middle of the booth seat. Sasha laughs at him.

"You come sit on my side, if you feel too lonely," he says.

"Nah," Backy says, shaking his head. "Even if I were dating you I wouldn't want to be _that_ couple."

Silence stretches between them for a moment. It was the last joke Sasha expected Backy to make, considering. Sasha's mouth feels a little bit dry.

"Oh come on," Backy says irritably. "It's been nearly five years, Alex. I can make a joke about it without it being weird."

"Not weird," Sasha says to him. "I was just thinking about it. On the way here."

"Why?" Backy asks, and Sasha shrugs.

"Because five years is long time," Sasha says. "But maybe not conversation for dinner."

Sasha does not miss the way Backy looks at him then, sharp and angry, and Sasha knows he deserves it. They sit in awkward silence until the waitress comes to take their drink orders. At the very least, it breaks the silence and once she's gone, Backy brings up the team, and who they think is going to be staying up and who they think will be going back to Hershey.

He's not off the hook completely, because Backy doesn't just _forget_ things like that, but for now, he's dropped it.

 

**2012**  
They lose the game. Badly.

Some of the guys want to go out after the game's over, but Nicke doesn't feel like it. The last thing he wants to do is go out after a loss, and even less so with a bunch of guys who barely speak English, much less Swedish, and will forget as the night goes on that Nicke doesn't speak Russian, unless it's to curse or ask for more drinks.

Unfortunately, Nicke also doesn't want to go back to Alex's apartment and hang out at Alex's apartment without Alex there, even though Nicke is literally living there while he's in Moscow. Basically, the game was shitty and Nicke doesn't want to go home and be alone.

He ends up sitting at a table with a couple of other guys, who made an effort to try and include him in their conversation, but the more they drink, the harder it became, and now Nicke's not sure what they're talking about anymore, other than the occasional word in English. Alex is at the bar, flirting with a girl who has long dark hair and a lot of dark eye makeup. It's clear Alex is flirting with her, and it makes Nicke feel ... not good, because sure, he definitely wants to come out with Alex because Alex asked, then get ditched at a bar in a foreign country because Alex picks up some girl and takes her home and it's too awkward for Nicke to get in a cab with them.

Nicke tosses back the last of his drink, thinking that he'll leave, catch a cab home and leave Alex here, maybe beat Alex home before he gets there with the girl and Nicke has to walk in on them hooking up on Alex's sofa or something. Instead, before he can get up from the table, Alex is coming over to him - without the girl.

One of the other guys at the table says something to Alex, who laughs, and shakes his head.

"Backy, you want another drink?" Alex asks him, gesturing to Nicke's empty glass. Nicke shakes his head. "Thinking about leaving?"

"Probably," Nicke says. "I'm tired."

It's not strictly true. Sure, his body's tired from the game, but mentally he just doesn't want to be there. He wants to go home, crawl into bed, and sleep off the shitty game and the shitty day.

Alex just nods. "We go, then," he says, then says something else to the other guys in Russian. Nicke stands up and tugs his jacket on while Alex says his goodbyes. Nicke waves at the guys as he heads toward the doors. The rush of cool air as he walks out is nice, and soon Alex is next to him, hailing a cab. The ride back to Alex's apartment is short, and Alex chats with the driver while Nicke stares out at the lights going past.

The living room is lit by just one lamp, left on for when they get home after dark, once Alex lets them into the apartment. Nicke shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it up in the closet, taking Alex's as well once Alex has it off.

"Water?" Alex asks him, heading toward the kitchen, and Nicke nods before tossing himself down on the couch, closing his eyes. He opens them again a few minutes later when he feels Alex's weight settling onto the couch as well, and takes the bottle of water Alex offers him, uncapping it and draining half.

"Thanks," he says. Alex picks up the remote and clicks on the TV, turning the volume down low just to kill the silence.

"You didn't have to come out," Alex finally says after a while. Nicke's bottle of water is nearly empty and he's thinking about going to bed.

"I didn't want to sit here alone," he says.

"Homesick?" Alex asks him. Nicke finished off the bottle of water and puts the empty down on the floor next to the couch, shifting until his shoulder is leaned against the back and he's looking at Alex.

"I've played away from home too long to get homesick," Nicke says. It's not defensive, and he's a little proud of himself for that. He's not homesick. He's just in a country where he doesn't speak the language, and he's here because Alex asked him to be. Begged him to be.

"But you wish you back in DC," Alex says.

"Don't you?" Nicke asks.

"You here either way," Alex says. Nicke must make a face at that, because Alex grins at him.

"Fuck off," he says.

"Happier when you here," Alex tells him after a long moment. Nicke looks at him silently, tilting his head to the side. "Mean it, Nicke."

Alex never calls him Nick, unless it's serious. And Nicke takes a deep breath, before leaning across the distance between them and pressing his mouth to Alex's. He's only been thinking about this since he got to Moscow - since Alex begged him to come to Russia. Alex kisses him back, fisting his hand into Nicke's hair. 

Eventually, Alex pulls back and Nicke opens his eyes, licking his lips. Nicke watches Alex watching him, watching Nicke's tongue move.

"Alex," Nicke finally says after the silence has stretched between them beyond comfortable and tipped over into awkward. "I don't - I don't know if this was what you meant when you begged me to come here."

"Wasn't plan," Alex says. "But..." He shrugs. Nicke knows he was into it - nobody kisses like that if they don't mean it.

"Why didn't you bring the girl home from the bar?" Nicke asks.

"Not want to. Not care? She nice, but I..." Alex shrugs, waving his hand through the air. Dismissing the conversation.

"I meant to come home and go to bed," Nicke says. "Not kiss you. And I won't - I won't do it again, either, so you don't have to worry about - "

"Don't be stupid," Alex says, and this time he's the one who closes the distance between them.

 

**2017**  
"Five years is not a long time," Backy says the second they're in the car, both doors closed. Sasha doesn't even have the key in the ignition yet. He knew he hadn't gotten off the hook back at the restaurant.

"Is long enough," Sasha says. He carefully keeps his voice neutral.

"Oh?" Backy says. "Long enough for what?"

Sasha takes a deep breath and holds onto it, exhaling slowly as he starts the car. He doesn't want to start a fight, not right now, not about this. Unfortunately, sometimes Backy likes to start fights, and right now he's spoiling for one. There's no winning here for Sasha. If he doesn't respond, it will piss Backy off. If he does respond, it ... will probably piss Backy off. Sasha is not winning this.

"Long enough," Sasha begins. "To decide what I want."

"Okay," Backy says, and leans back in his seat. Sasha feels like that was too easy. It was too easy. It's not over, and Sasha knows it even if Backy doesn't say anything until they're almost back at his house.

Sasha can almost feel it coming when Backy inhales. "You broke up with me, you know," he says, his voice quiet. Sasha doesn't like when his voice sounds like that, low and soft and like things are going to have meaning.

"Were not dating," Sasha says, because first of all. "And not want to mess up career."

"That could still happen," Backy says. He doesn't roll his eyes, but Sasha feels like it's a very near thing.

"No," Sasha says. "Not matter so much now. Still no good in Russia, but not worry about reputation here. Not so young anymore." Sasha doesn't have to worry that he's still making his way, that the Capitals won't want him as captain anymore. He still spends every season trying to prove himself, but it's different now. It feels different.

"I was in love with you," Backy finally says, and Sasha feels his heart drop. No, that's not what he wanted to hear. He knew that Backy was upset at the time, but he didn't know that Backy was in love with him. He never would have guessed that, dreamt that. Fuck.

"I," Sasha says, because what does he even say to that. He swallows and tries something else. "And you not now?"

Backy doesn't say anything, and purposefully stares out the passenger window. He's quiet until Sasha pulls into his driveway, but he doesn't make any move to get out of the car.

"Why is it because you've decided what you want?" Backy finally asks. He's still not looking at Sasha, his voice muffled by his face being turned away. "Does what I want now matter?" He finally turns to Sasha. "Why didn't what I wanted then matter?"

"I was scared," Sasha says quietly. "Scared of what I could lose. Scared of feeling that way about you."

"We could have made it work," Backy says. 

"I couldn't then," Sasha tells him. "I wanted too many other things to try then."

"Why is it okay now?" Backy asks. "What's the difference?"

Sasha shrugs. "Feelings about you not go away after years. Still want some things same way. Want other things different ways."

"Other things," Backy says.

"Still want Cup. Still want gold medals," Sasha explains. "But want those things with you."

"We play on the same team."

"No," Sasha says. "With you. Because I love you. Not just because we play together."

Backy closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in through his mouth and exhales through his nose.

"You love me," he says.

"Da," Sasha says. Backy opens his eyes again and looks at Sasha.

"What if I don't want it," Backy asks. "Any of this. With you."

"Then that okay, too," Sasha says. "Not like it, but it okay."

Backy nods. "I think," he says. "I think I need time to think about it." Sasha nods, mute. "Because I was ready then. I don't. I don't know if I am now."

Sasha nods again, and this time Backy does get out of the car. Sasha waits in the driveway until he's disappeared into the house before he heads home.

 

**2012**   
_when u come to moscow?_

Alex has sent him the same text every day at the same time for ten days in a row. Possibly, if Nicke does go to Moscow, Nicke will promptly strangle him.

_why should i come to moscow?_

_bc i lov u_

It's a pretty compelling argument.

 

**2017**  
Sasha lets the dogs out into the back yard and follows them out to sit down on the steps while they sprint through the grass. He puts his phone down on the step next to him and leans against the porch rail.

He thinks he's made a huge mistake.

He doesn't know if it was made that night, or if it had been years ago in Russia he'd made the mistake, but it had been made. And now Backy - well, he doesn't think that Backy hates him, but he certainly isn't happy. And Sasha's not happy either.

He doesn't know how long he sits there on the porch before he hears the back door click open behind him. He startles when he hears it, whipping around. It's Backy standing there, framed in the light from the kitchen.

"I love you, you know," he says, standing there, not moving toward Sasha. "I have since you called my name at the draft, maybe."

"You said you needed time to think," Sasha says.

"I was upset," Backy says. "But I loved you then. And I still love you now."

He walks over and drops down to sit on the step next to Sasha. Blake wanders up and sniffs at Backy, causing him to go tense next to Sasha. Sasha reaches out and pushes at his nose, tells him to go play. He loves his dogs, but he knows that Backy doesn't like that they're so big. Once Blake has gone, Backy leans over against Sasha's shoulder, and Sasha wraps an arm around his waist, even though it's too hot to sit this close, even after dark.

"Still upset?" Sasha asks.

"No," Backy says. "But I'm gonna kick your ass if you pull this shit again."

"I let you know in five years," Sasha says, grinning. Backy straightens up, glaring at him. Sasha grins, then leans in and kisses him on the end of the nose. It's hard for Backy to stay looking pissed off in the face of something so ridiculous. He holds on for a few seconds, before starting to laugh.


End file.
